


Snoutlout Gets the Sword

by SidingwiththeAngels



Category: Dragons Race to the Edge, DreamWorks Dragons (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), race to the edge - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Redemption, Shenanigans, Viking Tradition, Wedding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-10-14 20:35:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10543946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SidingwiththeAngels/pseuds/SidingwiththeAngels
Summary: A year after Stoick's death, Hiccup and Astrid finally have the time to get married. Everything is set up. The village is excited. The Chief is on his way to being a married man. There's just one problem: the fate of the wedding lies in one Snotlout Jorgenson's clumsy clumsy hands.And he plans to redeem himself from the last wedding he may have ruined.(In reference to Race to the Edge season 2 episode 5 "Snotlout Gets the Axe")





	1. Wedding Jitters

**Author's Note:**

> So far, this has no plan. I'm going to write it in 1,000-word chapters to squeeze in between work, so bear with me. Also, as usual, leave comments, kudos, etc. because I haven't written in so long that I need to know this is worth it. Yes, I'm an attention hog. So sue me.

          Hiccup sat in the overlarge chair, swallowed by the oak that once sat his father. With his flight suit and armor cast to the wayside, he almost felt naked as splinters rose up through his leggings. His father cared for the chair in a way Hiccup could never duplicate. The resulting splinters stayed and multiplied but weren’t as bothersome as usual at this moment.

An ornate sword sat across his legs, gleaming from the evening fire, and seemed to stare up at him. The twists and swirls engraved in the sword’s metal and the shining leather in the hilt told him what he already knew. He just didn’t want to agree with it.

          The softest touch to his shoulder broke him of his reverie. Looking up, he saw his bride-to-be glowing in the firelight with a silent question on her lips.

          “You know it’s Viking tradition for someone to carry the house weapon to the wedding, right?” Hiccup asked as he covered her hand with his, feeling her fingers dig into his shoulder gently through his tunic. “A family member carries the weapon to the wedding and unites the families by cutting down the ceremonial tree on the Isle of Frigga.”

          “Yes, Hiccup, we all know this,” Astrid said and rolled her eyes at her Chief. “It’s not something our ancestors or the gods would ever let us forget.”

          “But they did, didn’t they? Forgot, I mean.”

          Astrid cocked an eye up at him and waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t immediately, she gripped his shoulder a little tighter.

          “Ow, ow, ok.” Hiccup drew in a breath then said, “The Haddocks have always been a small family. Just enough heirs to make a Chiefson, then when that Chiefson becomes Chief, he makes enough heirs. That usually means one if the son is first.”

          “You’re worried you have no one to carry the sword,” Astrid finished.

          “No, no, that’s not it.” Hiccup ran a hand through his hair as he looked up at her, apologetically it seemed, and said, “The gods forgot I needed a bigger family, but at least I have Snotlout.”

          “No.” Astrid took her hand away from Hiccup’s shoulder and crossed her arms over her chest. “You are not giving him the sword! Remember what happened last time!”

          “Yes, but he’s all I’ve got!” Hiccup pointed out. “Dad’s gone, so it can’t be him. Mom’s residing over the whole thing. Spitelout is getting the boars _with_ the twins. Fishlegs isn’t family, even if he is my best friend…besides you and Toothless. Gobber…well, Gobber…”

          “Is not in charge of anything, or else.”

          Hiccup chuckled a little. “That just leaves Snotlout. He’s my cousin. My aunt’s son. And it’s tradition.”

          “What about Gripelout?”

          Hiccup cocked an eyebrow up at her. “The Jorgenson with no arms which means no hands to hold the sword _or_ cut down the tree?”

          “He still has teeth!”

          “Four. He has four teeth now because people keep asking him to do things with his teeth. No, Astrid.”

          “Spoutlout?”

          “Isn’t he still missing?”

          “Gustav!”

          “Gustav isn’t _my_ cousin, he’s Snotlout’s cousin. I’m not jumping family lines like that, especially as I’m not convinced Gustav is a better choice.”

          “Well,” Astrid said, the cogs in her head working as she leaned against the massive oak chair, “you are the Chief. You could change tradition and have someone else do it. My father’s willing, and the Hofferson’s have a slew of cousins. I could get one of them to do it.”

          Hiccup looked down at the sword and ran a hand over the gleaming metal. It was the old iron from generations before, perfectly cared for to where not a single nick from old weddings remained. His mind created ideas to recreate the sword with Gronckle iron, but his heart told him to leave it alone.

          “It’s what I’ve got left of my dad,” he said in a near-whisper. “It’s how he would have wanted it. I can change so many things, Astrid, but I don’t think this is a tradition I want to alter.” In a lighter note, he said, “And seeing as we’ve seen how he dealt with it last time, we know what to expect this time. Or not expect.”

          “Yeah, like not expect that sword to show up to our wedding,” Astrid replied, almost frostily.

          Hiccup couldn’t help but laugh, even if it was to keep his worries at bay for just a moment.

          “We could always give it to him then not let him out of our sight,” Astrid offered.

          Hiccup shook his head, his auburn hair tickling against her fingers on the chair. “We have to arrive separately, remember? And the sword has to be there before you to cut the tree when we marry.”

          Astrid groaned then moved to sit next to her husband-to-be in the chair, still having room to turn and pull a leg up to her chest as she faced him. It felt strange and hollow to take up space that was once Stoick’s, but the two had come to think of it as something Stoick would have wanted. He had loved Astrid as his own and was more excited than anyone on Berk for them to wed, maybe more excited than the two themselves. So they resided in his chair together to share the love he once exuded towards them.

          “You are making this very difficult, Hiccup Haddock,” she pointed out.

          “No, this was difficult before. I just put it into words.” He smirked at her as she glared but found a softness in her stark blue eyes that told him she wasn’t actually mad. Upset, yes. But mad? Well, at least not at him. “Besides, future-Mrs. Haddock, this was going to happen anyway. We marry in a week. I just didn’t want to bring it up until, well, at all, actually. Like the gods were going to strike him with lightning again and give me a way out of this.”

          “I’d be impressed if he survived another bout of lightning.”

          “I’m surprised he’s survived Hookfang, to be honest.” They both laughed, their fingers finding their way to twine together as they always did. Then the room fell silent, both pairs of eyes trained on the ancient sword as if it would give them a way out of this predicament.

          “If he loses this sword, I’m going to kill him, and his helmet is going to adorn our new home,” Astrid said, and Hiccup believed her.


	2. The Sword of House Haddock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astrid tries to control her pre-emptive anger. And fails.

Before the sun rose the next morning, Hiccup found himself at the docks, watching the horizon from Toothless’ back. The dragon slept as his rider lost focus in the clouds, in the sea, in the gleaming light from the wakening sun. It was far too early for the Night Fury, but Hiccup had been too restless to sleep for long. Atop his Snotlout problem, Hiccup also had his regular Chiefly duties to attend to, whatever remained of his wedding, and preparations for post-wedding life as well. It was safe to say that Hiccup’s head was constantly thrumming with thoughts. Which was how he found himself losing those thoughts with the peaceful oceanic horizon.

          The wedding preparations were going seamlessly as far as he could tell. Spitelout was gathering the four-hundred boars for the feast with the twins, which complicated the matter a bit. It was the only way Hiccup knew they would stay occupied at least for a couple of days. Valka was spending all her time with Gothi (and by extension, Gobber for translation) to reeducate herself on how to officiate wedding ceremonies. While she was a very intelligent woman, Hiccup knew that transitioning from an all dragon company for twenty years to an elder who didn’t speak but for a stick in the sand was a bit complicated for her. Fishlegs was caring for the dragons. The Isle of Frigga was too small for everyone on Berk to attend, much less the dragons Hiccup had trained and come to call friends. So it was up to Fishlegs to keep them on Berk, though he promised a ‘surprise’ for when the wedded couple returned home for the week-long post-wedding festivities. It made Hiccup a little nervous to say the least.

          Then there were the guests themselves. Each house was sending at least one person to represent them at the wedding, but that invitation had somehow spread beyond Berk. Both Dagur and Heather were coming to represent the Beserkers. Hiccup suspected they were also coming to rub it in his face about being a ‘ladies’ man’ as Dagur repeatedly teased him about. Then there was Alvin. While Hiccup was nervous about the Outcasts, he couldn’t say no to Alvin. The Treacherous Outcast leader had vowed he would arrive if only to honor Stoick. It was only because of his father that Hiccup had agreed. Well, that and he was afraid Alvin would snap him in half if he said no. Mala and Throk were also attending, thought without any flyable dragons, Hiccup knew they were already sailing towards the Isle of Frigga rather than Berk.

          Hiccup dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his eyes until he saw stars. There were too many people. If only he could take Astrid and Gothi, go to the island, and wed without so much fuss, he would be happy. He didn’t care if there were hundreds of people or if the village feasted for a week. He wanted to be with his wife and start this part of his life as if it were any normal day of the week. But he couldn’t. He could feel his father’s eyes shining down from Valhalla watching his every move. So he knew in his heart that this was a Viking tradition he was going to keep and abide by.

          A loud squawk broke him of his reverie. Toothless shook beneath him and turned to face the orange and blue Nadder landing gently behind them. Hiccup slid off of his dragon, propping his prosthetic leg into the standing function, and waved Toothless off to play with Stormfly as Astrad strode over to the cliffside.

          “Valka said she didn’t hear you leave last night,” she said in greeting as she took her husband-to-be’s hands in hers. “Did you even go home?”

          “Yes,” Hiccup replied defensively then let out a small sigh. “I just didn’t stay is all.”

          “Is this about Snotlout?”

          Hiccup looked up to the sky as if Odin would give him an answer. No answer came. “Not entirely. This is just a very big fuss. Couldn’t we just take Gothi and get this done?”

          “And rob me of my wedding day?” Astrid chuckled. “The one day of my life where it’s all about me?”

          “Hey, it’s about me too!”

          Astrid laughed. “You’re the Chief. Every day is about you.”

          Hiccup’s smile faltered as he looked down at their hands. “I think that’s why I don’t want all this fuss. Just a quiet day with the two of us. No feast or week long festivities. Just us.”

          Astrid pulled Hiccup closer then turned him towards the village. The square was still empty as the sun shone over the horizon, basking the huts in an orange glow and casting the stone roads in shadows. The Chief’s hut stood proudly at the top of the hill near the Meade hall, the intricately carved entrance from Stoick and Valka’s wedding shining bright with its golden paint reflecting the morning sun. Astrid pointed towards a house further down the hill, the roof still in pieces on the ground and a gaping hole in the front.

          “That’s where it’s just us,” she whispered. “The new Haddock house. You and me and our dragons. No one else can bother us there.”

          Hiccup gave her his signature lopsided smile, grateful that for all the violence she exhibited, she still knew what he needed to hear.

          Then she punched his shoulder.

          “Violence!” Hiccup shouted as he grabbed his shoulder in pain. “Makes for unhappy marriages!”

          “So will having a gaping hole in our house!” she retorted. “If you don’t give Snotlout – or _somebody ­­_ – that sword, we’re going to have a leaky roof over our heads for the rest of our lives. And, of course, not actually be married.” She straightened herself up a bit, if only an inch, and said with a false bravado, “So come on, Haddock. Let’s go give that oaf a sword.”

          Even though Astrid had given him a direct order, even though she had made a very valid, and horrifying, point, even though Hiccup knew he should be jumping onto his dragon and getting the horrid task done, he couldn’t help but stand there and smile widely at her. She cocked an eyebrow up at him.

          “Why are you smiling at me like that?”

          “It’s just that it really is ‘our’ house now, isn’t it?”

          Astrid returned his smile but rolled her eyes. “We do marry in a week,” she reminded him. “Best get used to it, babe.” Then she kissed his cheek and strode over to Stormfly. “Race you to the Jorgenson’s. Last one there has to give the sword to Snotlout.”

          Stormfly’s talons dug into the earth before the dragon shot off into the sunrise, a blue and orange blur dissipating into golden light.

          Hiccup, still smiling, raced over to his stretching black dragon and hopped onto his back. “C’mon, boy,” he murmured to Toothless. “I really want to see Snotlout’s face when Astrid has to give him the sword.”

 

          As it turned out, even with Stormfly’s headstart against Toothless’ speed, they were tied. They landed in front of the Jorgensons’ just as the sunlight touched the doors to the Mead hall and as Vikings lumbered from their homes for the first meal and chores of the day. Silent Sven wobbled his way down the square with a sheep blurting beside him, the man’s eyes hooded over in sleep and boots mysteriously missing from his feet.

          Astrid and Hiccup were engaged in a silent conversation, glaring eyes and pleading eyebrows and a few choice finger demonstrations, when the door to the Jorgenson house opened up. Both of them shot up as straight as possible with smiles plastered to their faces. Very unconvincingly, but smiles nonetheless.

          Spitelout seemed not to notice the falsity. “Hiccup!” he shouted, his voice never lower than a yell even in the morning. He also had yet to get used to calling the young Haddock as ‘Chief’ as he’d done with Stoick before him. It was still always Hiccup or ‘boy-o’ as if the new Chiefton was still just a wee lad rather than leader of a civilization. “What brings you to the proud Jorgenson house so early? If it’s about the boars – “

          “It’s actually not, Spitelout,” Hiccup cut him off. “I trust that’s going, well, as well as expected with the twins on board.”

          “Oh aye. They’ve wrangled up a few here and there and went off to find more when they aren’t playing ‘stack the yak’ or whatever they do. We’ve got two-hundred at the moment and – “

          “We’re actually here to see Snotlout.” It was Astrid’s turn to cut in. Her voice was unnaturally sickly sweet with the fake smile to match. She never minced words, especially with Jorgensons, but Hiccup could tell this little show was to cover up how nervous she was about what they were asking of Snotlout. And possibly masking her pre-emptive anger too.

          “Oh, is the boy-o late again for the Academy?” Spitelout shook his head. “Tried to beat it out of him, I promise ya, but he never seems to learn, does he? He’s a right little –“

          “Did I hear my name? I think I heard my name.” Snotlout came tumbling down the steps from the loft above, one boot hopping down the stairs as he attempted to pull on his other boot. His helmet was askew atop a greasy pile of unbrushed hair and his vest was unlaced across his chest.

          Hiccup rolled his eyes. Even with their impending marriage, and as a result of Ruffnut’s on-again, off-again obsession between the last three eligible young men of Berk (excluding her brother), Snotlout held out hope for Astrid. That only made this worse on Hiccup.

          A haughty laugh filled up the doorway as Snotlout all but pushed his father out of the way. His pale blue eyes were trained on Astrid’s startlingly bright ones, his smarmy smile already stretched across his lips.

          “Come back for me, babe?” he asked with a wink.

          Astrid growled.

          “No, Snotlout,” Hiccup said as he took a step towards his bride-to-be. He didn’t want a murder the week of his wedding, especially someone so vital to the ceremony. “We came to ask you a favor.”

          “I can’t control what Hookfang does,” the young man replied defensively.

          “But you can control what you do, and what I want you to do…” Hiccup trailed off. He glanced over at Astrid who had simmered her anger for a moment to give him a small nod. The Chief walked over towards Toothless and pulled out the wrapped sword. Worn leather rubbed in his hands as he made his way back to the house. For a moment, Hiccup did nothing but stare at the package in his hands. If he turned back now, no one would know he’d at least tried. He could play it off as he’d forgotten about the entire tradition or change it at last moment. But he heard his father’s voice in his head, and he sighed. Unwrapping the leather, Hiccup continued. “What I want you to do – what I’m asking you to do, if you will, I mean – “

          “You get to take the Haddock sword to the wedding for the betrothal birch,” Astrid cut in. Hiccup glanced at her and noticed her fingers were digging into her palms. Then they were suddenly tangled in Snotlout’s unlaced shirt. “And if it’s not there on the Island of Frigga when we get married, I will personally see you on your way to Valhalla, understand?”

          Hiccup stepped up to place a hand between them, not having his other hand free to actually pry them apart. Astrid let go and stepped back. Snotlout, on the other hand, looked like his face couldn’t quite decide on an emotion to exhibit. Fear of Astrid. Confusion as he wasn’t actually a Haddock. Pride because he was Snotlout. He settled on Pride.

          “It’s not as great as the Jorgenson ceremonial axe,” he said as he lifted the sword from Hiccup’s hand, “but I suppose it’ll do.” He laughed haughtily again. “If it doesn’t show up – “

          Astrid growled. Snotlout’s free hand shot up in a defensive position, and the rest of the sentence fell to silence.

          “I’m – we’re not just asking because I’m Chief and decided it,” Hiccup clarified, even though he was mostly sure Snotlout wasn’t listening. “We’re asking because – “

          “Don’t worry about it, cousin!” Snotlout shoved his cousin’s shoulder in a playful manner that was still a bit harder than playful. Hiccup’s metal leg wobbled underneath him. “I’ve got this! Only the bravest and most virile of the house gets to wield it!”

          “You’re the last one of the house,” Astrid said blankly. “It was you or no one.”

          Snotlout’s expression faltered for a moment, then pride shone bright again.

          “I can do this!” he exclaimed and held the sword up above their heads. Then Hookfang crawled over the top of the house and lit the sword on fire.


	3. Big Responsibility

When Hiccup had finally left the Jorgenson house, the sun had long since risen and the people of Berk had made their way through the Mead hall for their first meals already. He suspected Fishlegs had already gone through third breakfast, which also meant there was likely to be none left for the future new family and Snotlout. Not that he was going to be getting anything soon anyway. Astrid’s very creative threats for one-way trips to Valhalla should he mess up followed Hiccup as he made his way through the village square.

          With such an eventful start to his day, Hiccup should have known his day would only get more exciting. And by exciting, he definitely meant stressful. The normal day-to-day chores of a Chief piled on as usual, but they seemed to grow infinitely as the wedding chores began to stack before him as well. Spitelout and the twins were arguing constantly about what to do with the boars. The twins, naturally, wanted to them to fight each other or use them in one of their weird games. Spitelout, for once, was trying to do as the Chief asked without usurping any power. Hiccup found that very suspicious, but he didn’t have a chance to question it. Eret, Mulch, and Bucket were making their way through the last of the winter reserves for the feast before going out for fresh catches for the spring. The former dragon hunter’s wits were waning with each passing moment he spent with the two seasoned fishermen, but his boat was better equipped than anything Berk had. Gothi, Astrid’s mother Olga, and many of the other townswomen (and Tuffnut) bothered Hiccup about his ceremonial wear for the wedding. Hiccup hadn’t thought it was anyone’s business but his own, yet when he tried to wave away their questions, it was the only time in the past year he’d been ignored as Chief.

          “I’m dealing with it!” Hiccup had assured them, getting testier each time a question was lobbed his way. Many of the townswomen arched their eyebrows at him and kept pestering him. Tuffnut, on the other hand, was the only supportive one. Well, sort of.

          “This isn’t armor, Hiccup,” he’d said as he followed Hiccup up to Silent Sven’s farm. “Or dragon saddles or metal legs. It’s gotta be stylish and without any fashion faux pau nonsense. I can help you, and you know Snotlout has the best stitching in the entire village – “

          “Snotlout has enough on his plate for the wedding,” Hiccup replied quickly, “and so do you, for that matter. What happened to the boars?”

          Tuffnut waved him off. “Ruff and Spitelout are going to that boar island for more. I don’t know why, but we can’t borrow any more boars around here. Can you believe that, H? People refusing us, even for our Chief’s special day!”

          Hiccup groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. He didn’t even want to know what the twins had done to ensure no one would let them borrow or buy boars for his wedding.

          “And what’s Snotlout got to do?” Tuffnut asked, ignoring Hiccup’s internal struggle. “Unless something needs to be set on fire, he’s pretty useless. Whoa, that’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? He’s going to set something on fire! A bonfire. No, a tree. No, a load of trees! It’ll be the biggest bonfire in Berkian history! Oh please, Hiccup, please let me help!”

          “No, Tuffnut,” Hiccup snapped. He turned to face his friend just outside of Sven’s farm. “It has nothing to do with fire or destruction of any sort. Now please, for the love of Thor, go find those boars!”

          Tuffnut grumbled but went on his way, leaving Hiccup to deal with whatever Sven was moaning about today.

 

          “You know, if he’s not lighting anything on fire, he really can’t do anything,” Ruffnut said to her brother as they watched Spitelout wrestle a wild boar to the ground. The wild boars were giving him a bit more trouble than he’d anticipated, but the twins, having wrestled many of them on the Edge, just wanted to watch the fun.

          “You’re telling me, sister,” Tuffnut agreed. “I said that to H too, but he wasn’t having any of it. What do you think he’s doing?”

          “I dunno. It’s Snotlout. What good is he?”

          “We’ve got the boars. Valka is officiating it. I think Hiccup’s going to try to make the ceremonial wear himself – “

          “That’ll be interesting to see. Snoutlout’s better with cloth than Hiccup is.”

          “Astrid is overseeing the protection and guard because we all know how paranoid our beloved general is when she’s away – “

          “She really needs to loosen up. Maybe her wedding night will – “

          “Don’t give me nightmares, Ruff.”

          Ruffnut sniggered. Then the two of them fell into silence as Spitelout was dragged across the grassy plain. Then the boar swerved, ridding his guest who slid right into a tree.

          “The betrothal birch!” the twins said simultaneously.

          “You don’t think – “

          “H isn’t that stupid – “

          “But he is an only child – “

          “Unless you count Toothless.”

          “Who’d let a dragon cut down a tree?”

          “Who’d let _Snotlout_ cut down a tree?”

          Then the twins turned towards one another, their lips curving up into matching devious smirks.

          “Shall we go offer our assistance, my dear sister?”

          “We shall, brother dear.”

 

          For the second time that day, there came a knock at the Jorgenson house. Spitelout’s wife, Sigrid, began to wonder if her two men were actually becoming popular amongst the village folk or if this was becoming the second worst day of her life. She opened the front door to find the Thorston twins smiling up at her. With her eyes rolled to the back of her head as far as she could manage, because the twins deserved so much more than that, she called out, “Louty, it’s for you.”

          “’Louty,’” Ruffnut sniggered to herself then held a hand over her mouth as if to control her laughter.

          With a more arrogant sense of pride than usual, Snotlout strut down the stairs and stood in front of the twins with his chest puffed out, his fists pressed into his hips, and his mangled teeth somewhat gleaming at them with a smile.

          “Yeeess?” he drawled.

          “Hey, Louty,” Tuffnut chuckled. Snoutlout deflated slightly as a tinge of red rose to his cheeks. “We heard you’re very important to this wedding.”

          “Of course I am!” Snoutlout replied, his pride returning. “I’m next in line for the throne! Second in command! Hiccup is finally seeing my worth as – “

          “Nah, nothing that stupid.” Ruffnut rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “We want to see the ceremonial ax or sword or whatever the Haddocks have. C’mon, Louty. Let’s see it.”

          Snotlout deflated completely this time. Like a puff of smoke, it all vanished, and the poor man was left hunched in the doorway. If it hadn’t been for Astrid’s very extensive list of threats and this being his chance to prove himself as next-in-line, he probably would have run upstairs that moment to wield the puny little sword (it was nothing compared to the Jorgenson ax). But he just couldn’t.

          “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered.

          Ruffnut pushed past him. “You’re a terrible liar. Did Astrid threaten you? You should know she never means it. I’d be in Hel by the time I was ten if she’d come through on those promises.” With her twin in tow, she hurried up the stairs to Snotlout’s loft.

          “You can’t go in there!” Snotlout shouted after her. Then he chased up the stairs. “I-it’s a mess! C’mon, babe, you don’t want to see me like that!”

          It was too late. By the time he’d reached the entryway, the twins had already found the beaten leather package and were unwrapping it on Snotlout’s bed. Their eyes gleamed as the ancient sword lay in front of them. Then they cocked their heads to different sides.

          “I thought it’d be bigger than this,” Tuffnut admitted. “Being Chiefs and all."

          He raised it up out of its packaging and held it over his head. It was too light.

          “Maybe it’s Astrid’s wedding gift,” Ruffnut mused.

          “Nah, she likes axes too much.”

          “Put that down!” Snotlout shouted once his breath came back to him. He rushed over to grab the sword from Tuffnut’s hands, but he tossed it over towards his sister. She caught the handle swiftly and turned around with one hand behind her to push Snotlout away. Pointing it at the floor, she closed one eye and looked down the sword’s hilt.

          “Maybe Hiccup broke the real one and this is a fake. I can’t see Stoick using this for his wedding.”

          Snotlout fought against Ruffnut’s outstretched hand, trying to grab the sword. “Gimme that!” he muttered.

          Ruffnut tossed it back over to her brother who held it up in the light streaming in from Hookfang’s rooftop entrance. The sun gleamed off the hilt and cast an extra ray of light onto the wooden floor.

          “Hookfang! Help!” Snotlout shouted as he rushed towards Tuffnut.

          A shadow cast into the room as the Monstrous Nightmare climbed towards his rider. Then he took the sword in his mouth and flew away.

          “Hookfang!” Snotlout screeched.

          The twins stared aghast at Tuffnut’s empty hand then to Snotlout.

          “Well,” Tuffnut said as he clapped his hands together, “looks like you’ve got some hunting to do. We’ll just leave you to it – “

          Snotlout grabbed the twins by the backs of their vests. “Oh no you won’t!” he yelled. “You will help me find my stupid lizard _right now_ or so help me, I’ll take you to Valhalla with me when Astrid kills me!”

          “I hear it’s lovely this time of year,” Ruffnut said lightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me if the Twins are a little OOC. I found them harder to write than anyone else. 
> 
> Enjoy!


	4. Chapter 4

Astrid and Fishlegs had just finished their morning class overseeing Gustav in his new role: teaching the next generation of dragon riders. While it was more commonplace for those of the Hooligan tribe to ride dragons than when Gustav was learning, it still made Astrid nervous to leave him alone for long. The lanky git of a nineteen-year-old ‘man’ – she could hardly muster the word – had matured about as much as Snotlout had, which was better than the twins. At Hiccup’s request, he had become the next Academy teacher, and as Astrid’s insistence, he was to complete her training rituals starting with the children. If he could handle a dozen children running around unfocused with little baby dragons, he could handle anything.

          Astrid released Gustav’s class for the morning from the chained overhead of the arena. With Fishlegs trailing behind her, reorganizing the Book of Dragon cards back into his pouch, Astrid made her way towards the center where Gustav stood with a triumphant look on his face. It would have been enough for anyone else to believe in his confidence if it weren’t for the fact that his helmet was on fire and his clothes were a bit more tattered than when he’d arrived.

          “So, how’d I do, Mistress General-Chief?” he asked with an almost Snotlout-like air of arrogance. “Ready for that upper class, right?”

          “Your knowledge of deep sea dwellers is a bit lacking,” Fishlegs supplied as he finally tucked the cards away. “It’s Seashockers that have two heads, not Submarippers. And we’ve only come across one of those, so we don’t actually know too much about them. But otherwise, I’d say you did we-“

          “You didn’t die,” Astrid cut in sharply. “You wouldn’t have made it if you’d been with the twins. These kids are easy in comparison to them. Do you really trust them with dragons yet?”

          Gustav deflated a bit and opened his mouth to respond. Then Fanghook cried out. Everyone turned to see Hookfang swoop into the arena and pad along the rock floor towards them. Having spent so much time around him and his rider, Astrid was able to see an almost mischievous look in the dragon’s eye.

          “For the love of Thor, what did Snotlout have you do?” she asked, knowing full-well the dragon couldn’t respond. That didn’t stop her from also being pre-emptively upset. If Snotlout had lost the sword already –

          “You know he can’t respond, Astrid, right?” Fishlegs asked, looking at her questioningly and possibly a little concerned.

          “I know!” She marched over to the Monstrous Nightmare to look him over. His back bore no saddle, meaning Snotlout hadn’t even taken him for a ride yet. So whatever had happened had been of the dragon’s own volition. “Oh Gods.” She ran over to Stormfly and was prepared to jump onto her dragon’s saddle when she caught Fishlegs’ expression.

          “Are you actually _worried_ about Snotlout?” he asked incredulously.

          She opened her mouth to respond then shut it tight. A million things were running through her head. Most importantly, something had happened to Snotlout which meant her wedding and marriage were ruined. But then she also thought about Hiccup and how he was already devastated he couldn’t have Fishlegs at the ceremony. The island was too small. Even though Fishlegs had agreed to care for the dragons while Hiccup was away, and by default meant he was okay with not being at the ceremony, Astrid found it cruel to admit to him that _Snotlout_ was more important to the ceremony than Fishlegs. Even if it was the tradition.

          With a deep breath, she stepped back and let Stormfly lay back on the ground. “No,” she stated firmly. “Wedding jitters, I guess.”

          Fishlegs laughed as if he knew what she was talking about then turned back to Gustav. Astrid, on the other hand, kept her eyes trained on Hookfang while trying to keep herself rooted and not at all nervous.

 

          “ _Hookfang!”_ Snotlout screeched as he clambered through Berk’s forest. “Get back here, you stupid lizard!”

          The twins were a few paces behind him, calling out lamely and without any effort. Ruffnut’s steps got smaller and smaller, even skirting a bit to try and lose the maniacal Jorgenson and go back to the village.

          “Don’t even try it!” Snotlout yelled.

          “But we’ve been trying _forever,_ ” she complained. “We’re never going to find him.”

          “It’s been five minutes!”

          “Yeah, but did you see where Hookfang was going?” Tuffnut pointed out. “We could be going in the wrong direction. So yeah, we’re never going to find him. Might as well go tell the Chief – “

          “If you whisper one word of this to Hiccup, I’m going to – to –Ah! I don’t know! But it’ll be worthy of Astrid, I’ll tell you that!” Snotlout stomped off again, yelling for his dragon.

          They reached the edge of the forest near Mildew’s old abandoned farm when Snotlout gave a scream of frustration. He’d never been so angry with his dragon in their entire rider-dragon relationship if that was what he wanted to call it. Sure, they’d done some dumb stuff together and to each other, but nothing as important as this!

          “Woah, man, chill out,” Tuffnut said, his hands up in front of his chest as if to push Snotlout’s frustrations away. “If it’s that important, we can just take Barf and Belch around to see if _we_ can find Hookfang.”

          “Yes!” Snotlout spun around to the twins with a desperate smile. “Yes, we need to – “

          That’s when he saw. Just over the edge of the cliff peering into the top of the Academy arena, Snotlout saw his enormous orange dragon standing next to a very familiar orange and blue Nadder and the rider running between dragons. He felt the blood simultaneously run from his face and heat him up if it were possible. Of course Astrid would be the one Hookfang would run to.

          “There!” he said. Well, it was more of a raspy gasp-croak sort of sound than an actual statement. He cleared his throat. “Astrid’s got him.”

          “Oh, you’re dead,” Ruffnut laughed.

Snotlout shot her a glare then ran down the side of the cliff towards the Academy.

 

Winded and dripping in sweat, Snotlout barged into the Academy arena. He doubled over with his hands on his knees and huffed while his lungs burned. Then he looked up.

“Where’s – my – stupid – “

“He left,” Astrid said as she cocked her hip out to the side and put her hand on the top of her skirt. The twins trailed in, looking not at all like they’d just run from one side of the island to the other. “Did you anger him again? He seems to be avoiding you.”

Snotlout stopped. She didn’t mention the sword, which was good, but it also meant Hookfang didn’t have the sword anymore.

“Yeees,” he drawled, his mind still running as quickly as it could possibly manage. “Yeah, you know us.” He plastered a smug smile on his face and crossed his arms over his chest. “Just our playful banter. Wouldn’t put on his saddle this morning, you see. Intimidated by me now that you and Hiccup have given me this royal title.”

Astrid rolled her eyes and made her way back to her dragon. “Believe me, I would have given it to anyone else if I could. Just get him under control before the ceremony. I’m not taking you with me and Stormfly if you haven’t found him by then.”

“You’d ruin her dramatic entrance,” Tuffnut supplied. “I bet it’ll be over the top as usual. What are you planning on doing, As? Flips? Rings of fire? Oh, oh, is your ceremonial wear going to be made of dragon scales and spikes? Don’t think it would top your little skull skirt thing you’ve been wearing for so long – seriously, sister, change of pace is nice nowadays – but maybe you need to calm it down for your wedding day. Don’t want to scare off the future Mr. Hofferson, do we?” His sly wink was met with an eye roll and a growl from Astrid.

“Nah, I think her not wearing something dangerous would scare Hiccup,” Ruffnut stated. “She’d be a whole new person! And after all the times she’s already hurt him – “

“Thank you for your insightful and useless opinions on my wedding dress!” Astrid snapped.

Snotlout noticed that the twins banter about her dress had thoroughly distracted her from him and gave him an out. He edged towards the entrance, hoping she wouldn’t notice while she yelled at the twins.

“It’s a surprise, just like Hiccup’s, for our ceremony,” she continued. “You’ll see it then and not a moment sooner. And aren’t you supposed to be finding boars with Spitelout?”

“Nah, Snotlout pulled us away from that job,” Tuffnut said, jutting a thumb over his shoulder at the retreating Jorgenson. “Said we needed to find Hiccup’s – “

“Hiccup!” Snotlout shouted as he turned back to the scowling Hofferson. “Find Hiccup! Yeah, you know, not sure if the twins can be trusted with all those boars, you know? Maybe it should be me.”

Astrid jumped onto Stormfly’s back then looked down at Snotlout. “He’s in the Great Hall like he is every morning,” she reminded him. “With Eret. Where I’m supposed to be with plans to fortify the island. And no, you’re not. You’ve got plenty of responsibility for the wedding. We aren’t giving you more.”

“Yeah, even handling a sword may be a bit too much for you,” Ruffnut chuckled. Snotlout shot her a deadly glare.

“Speaking of,” Astrid said as she nudged Stormfly’s side, “I want to see that sword tonight – “

“I gave it to Gobber!” Snotlout shouted suddenly. “Y-you know, it looked so poor and nicked. Those Haddocks – don’t take care of their weapons, do they? Thought I’d let the Chief have a proper shine on his sword before the ceremony.”

Astrid cocked an eye at Snotlout, not quite believing him, but let it pass. Barely. “Fine,” she said as Stormfly made her way towards the entrance, “then I want to see it tomorrow.” And they flew off.

“You’re dead,” the twins said in unison. Snotlout couldn’t even argue.


	5. Smithy Snotlout

The sun was setting on the edge of the ocean when Snotlout caught up with his dragon again. Nestled in the dragon stables, Hookfang looked unperturbed as his rider came huffing into the compound and up to the Monstrous Nightmare corridor.

          “Alright, you stupid lizard,” Snotlout huffed as he pulled down the saddle from the side of the stable and threw it towards his dragon, “you’re going to take me to where you put that sword.”

          Hookfang snorted, and a puff of smoke billowed out of his nostrils. Snotlout didn’t even yelp in surprise or pain as he tightened the saddle into place.

          “Don’t even think about playing your games,” he warned. “If Astrid kills me, my death will be on your horns. I’ll come back from Valhalla to haunt you and adorn Astrid’s wall with your hide, hear me?”

          He clambered onto his dragon’s back.

The Monstrous Nightmare bucked but found his rider holding on too tightly for once. The young Jorgenson was not budging. A nudge hit the sides of his neck just a little too hard, and Hookfang let out a warning growl from the depths of his throat. Without warning, he shot up into the air and sped out of the stables, his wings beating hard against the salty sea air along the coast of Berk.

Snotlout let out a shrill scream as he scrambled to keep his hands tight around the Nightmare’s horns.

Hookfang wove around seastacks, skimming the top of the ocean with the tips of his wings and edges of his talons, until Snotlout’s screams became nothing more than white noise and gargled sounds mingled with the winter winds. By the time the dragon had landed on a seastack, Berk was nowhere to be seen on the horizon.

A loud _thud!_ sounded as Snotlout fell from his dragon’s saddle and landed chest first onto the rocky surface. He groaned in pain and sickness, contorting his body until his face was upwards but his lower half still faced the ground.

“At least you’ll kill me before Astrid does,” he mumbled, his words strangled with nausea and the threat of vomit. Stars danced in front of his eyes as he tried to stand up, his legs giving way three times before he finally stood on wobbly legs. His vision was still blurry but through the haze, he managed to see a sunny glint. He rubbed his eyes until the stars disappeared then looked again. There standing straight up in the rocky surface was the Haddock family crested sword, the leather hilt scorched with Monstrous Nightmare claw marks.

Snotlout’s heart did an odd twist. It flew in elation. The sword was _right there._ Astrid wasn’t going to kill him after all! But then again, it fell like Meatlug’s molten lava right into the pit of his stomach. The sword was burned and ruined. Even Gobber and Hiccup combined wouldn’t be able to fix it in time for the ceremony. Astrid was _absolutely_ going to kill him.

“One problem at a time,” he told himself as he pulled the sword from the ground.

It pulled back. An odd sucking sound came from the chasm the sword had made, like air being drawn through Ruffnut’s crooked teeth.

“Why not?” Snotlout yelled, throwing his hands in the air. “First, the axe is taken by an Armorwing Monstrous Nightmare and Smothering Smokebreaths. Then, the sword is stolen by my own dragon and a stupid island. What’s next? Is a baby yak going to take my own axe and throw it into the sea?”

He fell to the ground with a huff, glaring at the sword and his dragon. Hookfang didn’t look too fussed about it all but still inched forward and took the sword hilt between his teeth. He pulled it out, fighting against the sucking chasm, and dropped the sword at Snotlout’s feet. The hilt was not burned, scarred, torn, and soaked in Monstrous Nightmare gel and saliva.

Snotlout picked up the sword gingerly by the blade. “Is it just me, or is Stoick tormenting me from Valhalla?”

 

The sun had long since set on the isle of Berk by the time Snotlout and Hookfang finally made it back. Nearly half an hour had been spent on his tormented future alone before the Jorgenson decided that he would just have to fix the sword himself.

Gobber’s forge was smoldering and cooling in the evening air but still had enough light for Snotlout. Without having his dragon to light up that entire quadrant of the island, he felt that he would get away with it. But first, he knew he had to admit something to himself.

He had no idea what he was doing.

          “If Hiccup can do it, so can I,” he grumbled to himself as he ripped the ruined leather from the hilt. “They won’t even notice.”

          He tossed the remnants towards the back of the smithery, figuring it would get lost in Gobber’s usual mess or maybe be swept away in the night by a Terrible Terror or a baby Nadder. Then he rummaged through Gobber’s leather supply.

          Too brown. Too red. Too soft. Too rough.

          Snotlout pocketed some of the softest leather he found. “This is going on my next axe,” he murmured to himself with a sly smile. “Can’t use that on this stupid sword.”

          Finally, he found something akin to the ruined leather and cut it into strips.

 

          When the sun broke over the tops of the Berk mountain tops, Snotlout laid the sword down on the forge tabletop and looked at it proudly.

          “Won’t even notice.”

          The stitching was immaculate. The dark thread curved perfectly through every piece of leather and felt sturdy in his grip. Even the endings had managed to be hidden, giving it an endless appearance as if he’d never had to stop stitching.

          However, the leather was a disaster. Strand after strand layered on top of itself and bowed and buckled on top of each other. The ends were jagged cuts like he’d used Hookfang’s teeth to tear it in the moonlight, unable to see and with fear he’d wake his dragon. The smooth brown had devolved into a muddy grey from the soot of the dying forge combining with the sea winds with handprints smudged on the silver blade and intricate family crest details.

          Snotlout turned to Hookfang only to see a different shadow in the doorway.

          “The Chief is not goin’ to like what you’ve done to his sword, lad.”


	6. Problem by the Hilt...and Horns

Gobber stomped into the forge, the morning sun casting his shadow large and wide across Snotlout. The young Jorgenson held the sword hilt to his chest with fear keeping him quiet. What exactly was he going to say? The fact that Gobber was more faithful to the Haddocks than any other family in the clan meant he was certainly going to tell Hiccup. Who was going to tell Astrid. Who was going to absolutely _murder_ one Snotlout Jorgenson where he stood.

          “I – I – I – “ he stammered.

          The blacksmith ripped the sword from Snotlout’s hands and inspected the leatherwork more closely. “I hafta admit, lad, yer stitchin’ is mighty fine,” Gobber said, his wooden hand balancing the sword across the palm, “butcha woodworkin’ looks like Hookfang shredded me leather. And it was good leather too!”

          “Well it’s Astrid’s fault!” Snotlout shouted. “If she hadn’t threatened me or given the stupid sword to me or-or – “

          “Or trusted Hiccup’s judgement that ya were tha best for tha job?” Gobber supplied.

          A deep red flush appeared underneath Snotlout’s freckles. “Yeah!”

          “Then it woulda gone ta yer father,” Gobber pointed out. “Can ya imagine yer father cuttin’ down that there betrothal birch?” He laughed. “Hiccup would push him from the cliffs when he started braggin’. Hiccup coulda gone outta line too. We all know how different he is as a Chief. But he didn’t. Ya weren’t chosen last, lad. Ya were chosen _first._ Ya may be a pain in the right side of Thor’s britches, but yer also one of Hiccup’s closest friends. Tha Chief trusts ya, son, even if he doesn’t always show it.”

That left Snotlout a bit silent, and not fearfully so.

The blacksmith put the sword down on the table and clapped his hand and wooden hand together. “Now, we gotta sword ta fix, and ya got me best leather to replace.”

“What?” Snotlout snapped out of his reverie and stared up at the larger man.

“Ye ain’t leavin’ here havin’ ruined me best leather and keepin’ some of it in yer pocket there. Not without payin’ me back. And I got tha perfect solution for that, but it can wait fer now. C’mon, boy. Let’s fix up that handle before Astrid finds out. I don’t think tha village needs to know how serious our general is when she makes a threat.”

Even though Snotlout had once worked under Gobber as the official weapons tester, he had never worked so hard with the blacksmith as he did over the next few hours. Gobber was insistent upon teaching Snotlout what he knew about leatherwork and making sure he was the one to re-make the hilt. Gobber didn’t touch the sword much more than to use it to hit Snotlout if he made a stupid mistake or a snappy comment. It wouldn’t be a surprise to anyone if the young man was covered in bruises by the next day.

When the rest of the villagers began to mill around the square, Snotlout knew they were running out of time. Astrid would find him soon and being in the forge, working on the sword himself, she would figure it out. Or just get mad at him anyway.

He put the finishing stitch into the hilt’s leather and held it for Gobber to inspect. The weathered blacksmith rubbed his chin with his wooden handle, hmming and uh-huhing as his eyes squinted and twitched with inspection. If it weren’t for the stifling heat Grump was keeping in the back of the forge, Snotlout would almost admit he was sweating from anxiety. Almost. It was only when Gobber nodded and gave him a tooth-and-rock smile that Snotlout vowed to keep his anxiety a secret.

“Ha!” he cheered as he thrust the sword into the air. Then he put it down on the workshop table and began to walk out of the forge.

“Where do ya think yer goin’, lad?” Gobber called after him. “Ya can’t just leave the Chief’s sword here.”

“If Hookfang can’t reach it to destroy it again, then that’s where it’s staying,” Snotlout replied, “and I’m going home to sleep. Keep the stupid sword. I already told Astrid you had it anyway.” He chortled and nudged Hookfant into the air towards the Jorgenson house. He could see a blue-and-orange blur twirling with a black blur high in the clouds, but for once in the past day, he wasn’t afraid or nervous to see it.

Or at least, he wasn’t until the blue-and-orange blur changed direction. Instead of following Toothless into the clouds even higher where only the Night Fury could go, Astrid and Stormfly were darting down towards the village square.

Snotlout kicked his dragon again and bit his tongue to keep himself from shouting in fear. He didn’t really know why he was afraid. But his heart jumped into his chest, his nerves rattled against his skin, and his eyes stayed glued to the Deadly Nadder as Hookfang tried to evade and go home. Snotlout should have known it wouldn’t work.

          With Stormfly’s smaller build and wings, she was able to dive and turn sharply until she and Hookfang were face to face.

          “Morning, Snotlout,” Astrid called from beneath her fur hood. “Ready for inspection?”

          “It’s still with Gobber!” Snotlout shouted defensively. “I didn’t do anything! He has it!”

          Astrid pushed her hood down and cocked an eyebrow at the other rider. “I didn’t say you did anything. Not yet, anyway. Come on. I want to see it myself.” She gestured for Snotlout to go first, pointing in the direction of the forge, with such a steely look on her face that Snotlout was almost too afraid to challenge her. He opened his mouth to argue, or stutter an argument, when Toothless came shooting out of the clouds.

          “Astrid!” Hiccup called, his voice slightly muffled due to his face-helmet. “Why’d you – Oh, hi, Snotlout.”

          Toothless glided up next to Stormfly and hovered there with the others. He gave a toothless grin over to Astrid, his tongue lolling out from between his gums in amusement.

          Hiccup pushed his helmet up from his face and looked between the two others. “What’s with the morning session?” he asked.

          “Astrid doesn’t trust me like you do, Chief,” Snotlout called out, an arrogance to his voice that made Astrid roll her eyes. “She thinks I’ve lost the sword. Can you believe her?”

          Hiccup cocked an eyebrow up at him. “You’ve given us plenty of reason in the past, Snotlout, but you’ve still got it, right? The sword?”

          “We were just on our way to check,” Astrid said then pointed to the forge again.

          Snotlout couldn’t even fake a sneer before he turned and urged Hookfang down back to Gobber’s.

 

          Before Hookfang’s talons touched the village square in front of the forge, Gobber hobbled out yelling, “And another thing, ya bilgesnipe, ya left me forge a disaster! Not a single scrap put into place – Oh, hello, Chief. Hello, Astrid.” He gave his customary smile to the other two as they dismounted their dragons behind Snotlout.

          Astrid cocked her hip to one side and gripped it firmly, as if trying to keep herself from punching Snotlout preemptively. “What did he do, Gobber?”

          “I’m sure Snotlout has enough time to help you clean up, Gobber. Isn’t that right, Snotlout?” Hiccup asked as he looked over at his cousin. Snotlout mimicked the words under his breath but didn’t argue. Considering the matter closed, Hiccup turned back to the blacksmith. “Snotlout says you’ve got my family’s sword, Gobber, and Astrid here would like to see it. Would you please show us?”

          Gobber cast a quick look over at Snotlout who had his back to them then rolled his eyes and hobbled back into the forge. A moment later, he came back out with the sword grasped in his hand, hiding the hilt. “Good as new,” he said as he swung it a little.

          Astrid stepped forward and took it from Gobber’s hand without even breaking stride as the blade swung. She held it atop her palms, the blade shining in the morning sun. “Something is different,” she murmured.

          “Yeah, the old thing is fixed up and looks like new, just like I asked Gobber to do,” Snotlout piped up. “Told ya, Astrid.”

          “Not that, you numbskull,” Astrid snapped. “It’s the leather. Even leather that was polished wouldn’t look like this.” Then her eyes widened. “Is this a burn on the blade? And is this _new_ leather? Snotlout, what did you do?”

          Snotlout turned on his heels to face them and snapped, “It was Hookfang! He stole it and hid it and burned it! And I had to go out and find it and dig it up out of the ground, and the twins were useless, as usual, and you kept threatening me – It’s not my fault!”

          “So you had Gobber fix your problem?” Astrid yelled. “I knew we shouldn’t have trusted you!”

          “Nay, lass,” Gobber cut in calmly. “Snotlout did it himself. Took him all night and all morning ta do it, but that’s all his handiwork.”

          “And you have to admit, Astrid,” Hiccup said with a smile, taking the sword from his betrothed, “it looks better than it did before. Snotlout did a really great job.” He turned to his cousin, still smiling, and held the sword by the hilt. “I knew we could trust you, Snotlout. I’m really proud of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the next chapter is going to finally be the wedding we're all waiting for. Or at least the one I want to write. ;)
> 
> Enjoy!


End file.
